


scream and shout (cry and fall apart)

by nothinginfinite



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Cyber Bullying, Death Threats, Established Relationship, Harassment, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothinginfinite/pseuds/nothinginfinite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Two words. That's all it takes for what had started as a pleasant Tuesday to spiral into a complete and utter shit-show. The real kicker is that Nick had thought he was prepared for anything.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	scream and shout (cry and fall apart)

**Author's Note:**

> self-gratuitous reaction!fic to the events of Tuesday morning and a way to release some of my headcanon for Nick. first thing I've completed in ages. maybe now that this is out of the way, I'll be able to focus on finishing the Alexa Chung/Harry fic that's been open in gdocs for weeks.

_breathe in, breathe out._

Two words. That's all it takes for what had started as a pleasant Tuesday to spiral into a complete and utter shit-show. The real kicker is that Nick had thought he was prepared for anything.

&&&&&

"Louis Tomlinson."

The moment the words are out of Ian's mouth, Nick barely resists the urge to bang his head against the desk repeatedly, opting instead for falling against the back of his chair with a low, but audible groan. Matt shoots him a look but Nick just gives him a terse shake of his head and mouths, _later_ ; they've got to finish Showquizness yet and he's not about to discuss the can of worms Ian inevitably opened on-air, on the off-chance that Nick may somehow come out of this unscathed.

(It's wishful thinking ; when he pulls up Twitter on his phone, he's already got 15 replies that he'd be willing to bet money are all from 1D fans. For the sake of his own sanity, he backs right out of the app, locks his phone and puts it away to deal with later.)

"Okay, Showbot. Who's won today's Showquizness?"

&&&&&

He doesn't actually remember to check Twitter after the show is over, too busy helping Fearne get the Live Lounge set up for Haim and then quickly going over the paperwork for tomorrow's show before he heads home. It's only after he's home again, sprawled out on the couch with Puppy, idly scratching her ears as he waits for Collette to show up for their bike training, that it all comes rushing back, to the sound of an incoming text.

_r u on ur twitter?_

Finchy. Nick raises an eyebrow at his phone, tilting his head a little as he types a quick reply. Puppy lifts her head to look at him, clearly put out that Nick's stopped petting her.

_not currently. should i be?_

_check ur twitter. now._

Nick's frowning now. For the most part, unless Nick directly tags him, Matt doesn't really pay much attention to Nick's tweets so this is new. Something unpleasant that feels a lot like dread twists itself in his stomach, making him pull his bottom lip between his teeth as he thumbs open the app, clicking on replies once it loads.

The feed with his mentions starts at the bottom, with the ones that he'd received during the show and Nick settles into the couch a little more, a slight smirk sliding onto his features as he keeps scrolling through. He's not sure what Matt's on about; there's nothing here that he hasn't seen or heard before, nothing that he can't handle. Wait. Nick's frowning hard when he sits up quickly, bringing his face closer to his phone, like it might change the words on the screen.

The thing is, they've been Nick and Harry almost since day one, best friends in the public eye and later - but only amongst their closest friends and family - Nick&Harry and Nick's honestly used to the backlash he gets from Harry associating with him. He can't say it _thrills_ him, of course not, but he does his best not to let it get to him because it really doesn't affect his life, outside of the Internet and that's easy enough to ignore. Still, it makes Harry's mouth twist into a frown and his eyebrows knit together with concern and sadness on Nick's behalf until Nick is forced to snog him silly and remind him that they're just a bunch of harmless teen girls.

Until now.

Because now he's sitting on his couch, hand shaking where it's clenching his phone in a white-knuckled grip as he scrolls through tweet after tweet of the most awful, hateful things he thinks he's ever had directed at him. He stops reading when he gets to the homophobic death threats, closing his eyes and taking a deep, unsteady breath. In his hand, his phone chimes with an incoming text but Nick ignores it. He figures it's probably Matt again and he doesn't have an answer for him yet.

Nick's house is quiet, save for Puppy's snuffling breaths and Nick's own shaky ones. He's surprised he can even hear the two of them over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. His first instinct is to call Harry, to let the sound of his voice wash over Nick like a soothing blanket as he tells Nick about his current escapades in LA. He's already got his phone halfway to his ear, can hear the ringing and then his senses catch up with him and he thumbs ' _end_ in a hurry, breath picking up slightly.

Nick's rubbish at hiding things from Harry, especially things that upset him. Harry would know right away by the sound of Nick's voice and Nick can't do that to him. There's nothing that Harry can do anyway, aside from listening and for all that Nick selfishly wants to call him anyway, he's not going to interrupt Harry while he's hard at work and make him fret over something that Nick's not even sure is a legitimate threat yet. Nick's an adult; he's more than capable of handling this on his own and with any luck, it will have blown over by the time Harry gets wind of it. (Or, even better, he never finds out at all.)

The phone goes again and Nick opens his eyes and looks down, thumbing open his messages.

_did you see?_

_jesus they don't stop_

_nick?_

His chest feels tight still, no doubt due to his ragged breathing, but Nick's surprised to find that his eyes are dry when he texts back another reply.

_yeah, i'm here_

_ok. bosses want us in for a meeting. need to talk about how to handle this._

Nick texts back three thumbs up and re-opens twitter, chewing his lip in thought for a moment before composing a new tweet.

&&&&&

The bedside clock reads half 8 at night, still entirely too early for Nick to be curled up under the duvet like he is, the telly a soft murmur in the background. He's exhausted - after the meeting at the Beeb, he'd slagged off going riding with Collette and instead went for a run in the park with Puppy, to soothe his guilty conscience - but sleep eludes him, body refusing to relax enough to let him drift off when he closes his eyes.

Of course, that's when his phone goes off, sounding too loud in the quiet of his bedroom and were it not for it being Harry's hand-picked ringtone, 'Barbie Girl' - Nick had vetoed Miley and he figures that the results could have been far worse, all things considered, so he'd only griped a little - Nick might've silenced his phone and rolled back over to continue ignoring it. Instead, he shifts a bit so he's propped against the headboard and reaches out for his phone, thumbing across the screen to answer just before it goes to voicemail.

"Hey, Popstar." Nick's almost proud to note that his voice doesn't waver, sounding normal enough to his own ears, albeit rough after going from too much talking to none at all. Maybe, if he's lucky...

_"Nick?"_

"Hey. Hi. Yeah, I'm here, love." Nick can hear some rustling on Harry's end and he has to close his eyes against the sudden rush of fondness, nearly outweighed by the overwhelming sense of missing Harry.

_"Did I wake you? You sound like you were asleep."_

"Nah, still early yet. Just laying here with the telly on."

_"Oh. Okay. If you're sure."_ Nick hums in affirmation and there's a pause as Harry goes silent, the two of them just breathing down the line at each other. Nick's aware that he's gripping his phone tightly, waiting, but he's not sure which reaction he's waiting for, which one he wants. Harry speaks up again before he settles on one, voice softer than before and there's a definite lace of concern to it. _"Nick? Are you okay?"_

"What? Yeah. Brilliant, actually. Well. Me bum's a bit sore, but that's to be expected, bike seat and all."

Across the Atlantic, Harry makes a pained, frustrated sound in his throat. _"Don't, Nick. Don't try to deflect and shut me out, too."_

Nick sucks in a sharp breath, letting it out on a shaky exhale, eyes falling shut. He couldn't shut Harry out even if he wanted to, but he also doesn't want to make a bigger deal out of this than they have to, if they have to, god forbid. "I. I'm okay, now. Earlier, eh. Not so much. But I'm good now, Hazza. Promise."

_"But Nick, those tweets, they said-"_

"I know what they said, Harold!" It comes out sharper than he means and Nick immediately feels guilty, more so when he hears the way Harry's breathing has gone all wet and ragged, like when he's crying. "Shit, Haz. I'm sorry. I just. It's not like this is new for me, for us, yeah? There's not much I can do to prevent it."

_"I could tweet something? Or do an interview or summat, ask the fans to stop."_ Harry's voice gets softer, _"S'not fair, Nick."_

Nick's chest hurts again, filled to bursting with so much love and awe for Harry, even as something heavy with sadness, guilt and self-loathing settles in the pit of his stomach. "Hazza. Oh, love. S'not that I don't appreciate it, but we both know that would only make things worse. Next they'd be telling me to stop forcing you to fight my battles for me."

It's not the first time they've had this discussion and others similar. Harry hates that the attacks on Nick are a result of his fame, feels like it's up to him to set things right but - and Nick would never dare to say this out loud - Nick almost feels like this is his just reward for being selfish and not saving Harry from all this heartache by not turning around and walking away from him in the first place. Now, they're in too deep and Nick's certain that he'd only be able to walk away if Harry wanted him to.

_"Want me to arrange for Paul to shadow you?"_ Nick's mouth twists at that, unhappy with the idea of a bodyguard shadowing his every move. His reaction had been similar when they'd asked him at the Beeb earlier, immediate refusal on the tip of his tongue before Matt silenced him with a hand on his arm. In the end, he refused to use one at the present but agreed to employ a hired guard if things escalated.

"I think you've got me confused with you, Popstar." Nick sighs and shifts under the duvet, spreading his free hand out over the top to smooth it out. "We've met with the big bosses, Finchy and I, to discuss how to handle this."

_"And?"_

"And nothing."

_"Nick-"_

"Hear me out." Nick takes a deep breath and releases it, his body aching bone-deep with exhaustion. "This is the first time things have gotten this bad, yeah? And we don't know that it's more than the usual teen rage bombs being dropped from behind the comfort and anonymity of a computer screen."

Nick sighs, head dropping back against the wood behind him. "I can't make a big deal out of this, not yet, not unless I _have_ to. Sure, they may come at me on Twitter or whatever, but I can ignore that easily enough. No one's ever approached me out in the real world and I'm not worried - yet - that they will. A second-rate radio DJ is pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Just. I'm not storming the gates here, Haz, but I'm not being careless and sitting idly by, either. S'gonna be okay."

Harry's quiet for a long moment, long enough that Nick pulls his phone away from his ear to check that it hasn't disconnected and he's been talking to himself instead. He makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat, teeth finding his bottom lip again. "Hazza?"

_"You're not second-rate, Grimmy."_ Harry's low rumble makes its way down the line and while he stills sounds disgruntled, not completely happy with the choices laid before him, his voice has lost the guilty concern, no longer carries the sound of tears.

Nick huffs out a small incredulous laugh and can't stop himself from shaking his head, even though Harry can't see him. "All that and this is what you manage to come away with?"

He can practically see Harry's shrug when he says, _"S'the important part."_ , voice firm. _"Just figure that there's enough people willing to stand in line to tell you terrible things about you, you don't need to add to it. They're wrong and so are you."_

The way Harry speaks is slow and deliberate and it washes over you like warm honey, smooth and soothing. Nick's always admired the way that Harry speaks, like he's thinking out every word even as he says it, like he's only got so many words at his disposal and he's calculating each one carefully, so as not to waste it. Harry's earnest and sincere and genuine and he fiercely means every word that comes out of his mouth and Nick is so, _so_ hopelessly in love with him that he doesn't know what to do with himself some days, mouth stretched wide in a grin that won't quit.

"I know. S'why I keep you around, just in case I forget. I know you'll remind me." It's ridiculously cheesy, especially for them but though Nick struggles sometimes to express himself when it comes to his feelings, he's not nearly as emotionally stunted as people presume. (He's just learned, the hard way and over time, that if you offer up and give away pieces of yourself easily, people will take it all and leave you with nothing in return. Nick hopes with every fibre of his being that never happens to Harry.)

Harry lets out a small laugh and Nick groans already because he just _knows_ Harry's smirking when he says, _"Oh? I thought it was because you like my dick."_

"Ugh. You're a menace, Harold." Harry laughs for real then, bright and happy and Nick can't help but smile along, the knot in his chest finally loosening. "Actually the worst."

Nick scoots down the bed and settles into against his pillows, making a small content noise, Harry's breathing in his ear. "Hey, Popstar?"

_"Yeah?"_ Already, the low timbre of Harry's voice, fondness evident even from thousands of miles away, has Nick's eyes drooping shut, body relaxing further as his breathing evens out.

"Tell me a story." Harry's laughing softly in his ear, but obliges, launching into a tale about his California adventures and the last thing Nick thinks before he falls asleep is that there is nothing in the world that will ever be worth giving this up.

_fin._


End file.
